Making Friends and Meeting Pokémon
by AspiringCatLady
Summary: 12 year old Sherlock faces bullies and constant teasing every day, but when John befriends him, will he help Sherlock overcome his classmates? Kid!Lock Poke!Lock
1. Boney

*Note: John comes in in chapter four*

Chapter One

I sat in the sandbox in the park. Mycroft dropped me off so he could go to a study group meeting. Stupid brother. He's always dropping me off places I don't want to be. At least I brought Scully for company.

"Look at my sand castle, Scully," I said to Scully.

Behind me I heard kids whispering. A girl said, "Why's he got a skull with him?"

"He's a freak!" a boy yelled. I shot daggers with my eyes at him. What did he know? He's just an idiot. And it's obvious that his father's an alcoholic by just glancing at his shoes. "What? Is the freak angry?" he mocked.

"Leave me alone," I snapped. I dug at the sand with a stick.

"You're stupid. And weird," the girl said.

"Don't bother me," I growled.

"Or what?" the boy snickered.

"Your father's an alcoholic," I said. The boy's smirk fell off his face. I had hit a soft spot. I looked to the girl. "You have an obsession with chocolate, and it won't be much longer until you get as big as a whale."

The girl's eyes started to water. "Freak!" she screamed at me before running away.

"You're just a stupid kid!" the boy said, hurt. He ran away too.

I dug at the sand some more. "Why are people so mean?" I asked Scully. "Why don't they like you?" he grumbled. "They always call me a freak."

"Cubone?"

I looked up from the sand to see a Pokémon standing in front of him. "Who are you?" I asked.

"Cubone. Cu?" the Pokémon asked. I smiled. His head was a skull and he held a bone in his hand.

"Do you like Scully?" I asked shyly. The cubone was looking curiously at my skull. I giggled as he poked Scully with his bone.

"Cuuuuu!" he grinned at Scully then at Sherlock. "Cu cubone!"

I giggled. "Do you live in the wild?" I asked. The cubone nodded. "Do you…um… want to come home with me?"

The cubone cocked his head for a moment. Then he smiled and nodded his head. "Cubone!"

"Okay! I'm gonna call you… Boney. Is that okay? Do you like that name?" I grinned.

"Cubone!" Boney said with enthusiasm.

"


	2. Caught in the Alley

Chapter Two

Sherlock walked home from school like usual. School had been as boring and torturous as always. All Sherlock wanted to do now was go home and play with Boney. He wanted to just set aside his homework and forget all about it.

"Hey. Freak!" he heard a voice from behind him. Sherlock's walking pace picked up. He walked quickly and didn't look back.

"Are you ignoring us, freak?" another voice called.

"I think he is," the first voice said. Sherlock turned down an alleyway that was a shortcut to his house. The footsteps sped up behind him.

"Where're you going?" Sherlock was grabbed from behind. He saw Moriarty, who then pushed him up against the wall. Sebastian Moran laughed at Sherlock from behind his friend.

"Let me go," Sherlock said fiercely, trying to hide his fear. This wasn't the first time he was caught by the bullies after school.

"No, I don't think I will," Moriarty said with a mocking tone of voice. "Sebastian, do you want to be first this time?" he asked over his shoulder.

"I would love to," Sebastian replied, cracking his knuckles. Moriarty twisted Sherlock around, holding him by the arms.

"Let me go!" Sherlock yelled, struggling to get out of Moriarty's grip. Moriarty jerked his arm back and a flash of pain went down Sherlock's arm.

"Ha ha, I love this part in the day," Sebastian growled, walking up to Sherlock. Sherlock took a deep breath and held it, preparing himself for what was coming next. Sebastian pulled his fist back and threw it towards Sherlock's stomach. All of Sherlock's air escaped him, and he started coughing from the blow. Sebastian hit Sherlock across the face twice, then he returned to punching him in the stomach until Sherlock could no longer support himself.

"What wrong, Sherlly?" Moriarty teased. He dropped Sherlock to the ground and circled to Sebastian's side.

"J-just lea-leave me alone," Sherlock said weakly. He coughed blood up onto the concrete and struggled to his feet. Moriarty laughed at his effort and shoved him back to the ground. He jerked his foot back and kicked Sherlock as hard as he could. Sherlock collapsed again. Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the next kick or other form of abuse, but before it could come, Sebastian and Moriarty's laughter was cut short by the sound of a vicious roar.

"W-w-what do we do?" Sherlock heard Sebastian ask.

"Let's go!" Moriarty said quickly, trying to sound calm. Sherlock then heard the two sets of footsteps running away.

"Umbre?"

Sherlock looked up to see an Umbreon walking down the alley towards him. "Heh… thanks," Sherlock coughed, tears welling in his eyes.

"Umbreon?" the Pokémon sounded worried. He knelt down in front of Sherlock and nudged his arm with his muzzle. "Umb?"

"I'm okay," Sherlock said, holding his knees to his chest. "It's not the first time they've done that. Actually it happens a lot, really…" The Umbreon sat next to Sherlock and licked his blackening eye. "Thanks," Sherlock laughed weakly.

"I've got to get home," Sherlock said, slowly rising to his feet. He felt pain everywhere. "Thanks for your help," he called over his shoulder as he left the alley. Sherlock had walked for nearly five minutes before he realized he was being followed. He looked behind him to see the Umbreon walking and watching Sherlock closely.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked the Pokémon. "Why're you following me?"

"Umbreon!" he barked with a happy expression.

"What?" Sherlock asked. He was confused. "Do… do you want to come home with me? Is that it?

The Umbreon hopped around Sherlock's feet happily and nodded enthusiastically. "Umbreon! Umbreon!"

"Well… Mycroft won't like it… He didn't want to even let me keep Boney," Sherlock said to himself. "But, okay," Sherlock agreed. The Umbreon rubbed affectionately against Sherlock's legs and smiled up at him. "Let's go home, Umbreon."


	3. Going Home

_This chapter will play off of the last one. Thanks for reading!_

* * *

Chapter Three

Sherlock walked down the sidewalk with Umbreon. He was still walking slightly hunched over. His stomach hurt intensely from where Moriarty had kicked him. Sherlock's face was beginning to swell in the places where he had been punched. As his large home came into view, Sherlock's palms began to sweat. He hoped that Mycroft was in the library so he could avoid him.

"Umbreon, can you be quiet when we go in?" he asked the Pokémon as they stood on the porch, Sherlock's hand rested on the door handle.

"Umbre!" Umbreon answered with a bob of his head. Sherlock nodded and opened the door slowly, trying to keep it from creaking. He ushered Umbreon into the house and shut the door softly. Sherlock gave Umbreon a wave of his hand, leading him to the staircase.

"_So far so good" _Sherlock thought to himself too soon. When he and Umbreon were halfway up the stairs, one of the wooden steps groaned under Sherlock's weight. A noise came from the kitchen. Sherlock panicked slightly and took the rest of the stairs two at a time, trying to get to his room as quickly as possible.

"Sherlock?" his brother's voice called. Sherlock could hear Mycroft's footsteps by the stairs, but he swiftly made his way to his bedroom at the end of the hallway. Once he and Umbreon were in the room, Sherlock shut the door and leaned against it. Umbreon was panting slightly next to him.

"Well that went well," Sherlock said with nervous laughter. He hated facing his brother after getting beaten up. Sherlock looked up at his large room. Lying on his queen sized bed, Boney was fast asleep. "Boney, wake up. I'm home," Sherlock called, walking away from the door. Umbreon followed him and gazed curiously at his new surroundings.

Boney woke up at the sound of Sherlock's voice. He sat up alertly on the bed and enthusiastically yelled, "Cubone!" Boney started to run to greet Sherlock, but stopped short when he saw Umbreon. "Cu?"

"Oh, Boney, this is Umbreon," Sherlock said. He walked over and set his backpack next to his desk. He leaned against the wood and watched as the two Pokémon got acquainted.

"Cubone…" Boney growled with untrust. He reached his bone out and slowly poked Umbreon with it, pulling it back hastily once it made contact with his fur.

"Umbreon!" Umbreon's tone was friendly. He leaned down partially, smelling Boney.

"Bone!" Boney shrilled, knocking Umbreon on the head with his bone.

"Umbre," Umbreon pulled back and looked at Boney with annoyance.

"Come on guys," Sherlock said warily. It had been a long day; he didn't want to deal with the two Pokémon fighting. "Can't you just be friends or something?"

"Cu! Cubo!" Boney looked at Sherlock and angrily shook his bone in his hand.

"Hey," Sherlock said, kneeling in front of both of them. "Umbreon's going to stay here with us, so you're gonna have to deal. You might as well just accept it," Sherlock scratched the fur on Umbreon's head, who growled affectionately.

Boney looked at them and grumbled with anger. Sherlock stared at him, and finally he gave up. "Cubone," he grunted with defeat. He plopped down on the ground in front of Umbreon.

"Good," Sherlock said, standing and returning to his desk. He pulled his homework out of his school bag and began working on it.

"Cubone?" Boney said to Umbreon. He sounded like he was making a pact or forgiving from where Sherlock sat.

"Umbre," Umbreon answered, almost gloatingly. Umbreon began to clean his paws, and Boney returned to the bed, faintly grumbling to himself as he tried to catch more sleep.

Sherlock heard a knock on his door, but stayed silent, hoping his brother would go away if he didn't answer. A moment later, Mycroft appeared in the doorway. "Sherlock, dinner will be ready in ten-" he fell into silence when he saw his little brother's face. "Sherlock!"

"It's nothing," Sherlock muttered, hunching over his desk. He blocked purple and blue face from Mycroft's gaze.

Mycroft's steps echoed in the room as he made his way to Sherlock's desk. He knelt in front on the wooden chair and turned Sherlock so he was facing him. "They got to you again?" he asked. His voice was flaring with anger as he inspected the wounds on Sherlock's face. "I'm going to call that principle of yours and-"

"No," Sherlock interrupted. He was blushing, but Mycroft probably couldn't see it under the forming bruises. Sherlock's right eye had started to close up from the swelling. "There's nothing he can do. It happened off school grounds," he muttered. He didn't need Mycroft poking around in his business anymore than usual.

"This is ridiculous, Sherlock. Maybe you shouldn't walk home anymore," Mycroft sighed. "I can arrange for a car to go every day and pick you up."

"No, it's okay," Sherlock said. "I've got Umbreon to protect me now."

"What? Umbre-" Mycroft turned to see the Pokémon lying on the floor watching him.

"You brought home another one?" Mycroft asked, looking incredulously at his brother. Umbreon growled from behind him.

"He helped me, Mycroft. He stopped the Mor- the guys from hurting me anymore," Sherlock said quickly.

Mycroft looked between Umbreon and Sherlock for a moment. His eyes settled on Sherlock's face as he stood up and adjusted his vest. "If you have him there to walk with you, do you think you'll be safe?" he asked, exasperated. Sherlock nodded fiercely. "Then okay. Let's get ice on those bruises. It'll stop some of the swelling."

"Alright," Sherlock said quietly. He slid off of his chair and followed Mycroft to the door.

"Brother, will you tell me who did this to you yet?" he asked Sherlock. Sherlock looked him in the eyes and shook his head. Mycroft sighed and moved on. This wasn't the first time Mycroft had asked, but Sherlock never budged in his determination to keep the bullies unnamed. Sherlock couldn't have his brother doing something that would make his school life worse than it was already.

"Umbreon." Sherlock looked down to see Umbreon next him. He watched Sherlock with worried eyes.

"It's alright," Sherlock said reassuringly. He smiled and Umbreon seemed convinced. He strutted at Sherlock's side protective. Sherlock grinned faintly to himself. Maybe with Umbreon protecting him, Moriarty and Sebastian would back off.


	4. You Want to Be Friends?

Chapter Four

Sherlock sat idly on the swing, with Umbreon lying on the ground under him. Mycroft had a book club to go to, so he dropped Sherlock off at the park again. He didn't like leaving Sherlock at home alone, but dropping him off alone at a park was somehow better? "I'm so bored, Umbreon," Sherlock groaned. He rested his face on the swing's metal chain.

"Umbre," Umbreon grunted with agreement. He wanted to come to the park with Sherlock so that he could protect him if he got in trouble. Umbreon was very protective of him. Boney, however, decided to stay home. Sherlock swore that that Pokémon spent three-quarters of his day sleeping.

Sherlock swung his feet slightly, making the swing rock a little. The other five swings were empty. Usually, kids fought to get to them, but since Sherlock was using one, no one wanted to go anywhere near the swings. He pretended he didn't notice.

"Hi!" Sherlock looked up from the ground to see a blonde boy standing in front of him. Umbreon jumped to his feet on alert. Next to the boy's feet was a Growlithe. The Growlithe's tongue was hanging out of his mouth as he smiled.

"What do you want?" Sherlock asked sharply, waiting for the verbal abuse to come. It always did. Umbreon growled softly.

"Nothing," he replied, puzzled. He sat on the swing next to Sherlock.. His Growlithe lay happily in the mulch next to his owner.

"What?" Sherlock asked. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at the boy.

"I'm John," he grinned. "Do you want to be my friend?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

Sherlock looked at the ground and kicked at the mulch with his shoe. "I don't have friends," he grumbled.

"Well that's obviously," John said in a happy-go-lucky voice. Sherlock looked at him, trying to read what he was attempting to do. "That's why I'm asking. It must be lonely to not have friends."

"I have Pokémon," Sherlock retorted. Umbreon nodded at his feet. He was still uneasy about the situation, just like Sherlock.

"That's not the same," John said. "I mean, Pokémon are great. I love Flash," he pet the growlithe's main. "But I still think I'd be lonely without friends."

"Well, we're not the same," Sherlock grumbled stubbornly. He slid off of the swing and walked away with Umbreon next to him.

"Hey!" John called. He got off his swing and followed as well. Sherlock started to sprint. He was so confused and didn't know what to do. He glanced over his shoulder to see John and Flash running after him. But then, Sherlock heard a strangled cry from behind him. There was a loud 'thump' and a yelp from the Growlithe.

Sherlock stopped running and turned. John was lying on the ground in a heap and Flash was nuzzling at his arm. Sherlock looked at Umbreon with uncertainty. "Breon," Umbreon said softly.

"I know," Sherlock nodded with a frown. He and Umbreon jogged to where John collapsed. "What's wrong?" he asked, turning the boy from his side to his back. His face was scrunched up with pain.

"It-it's nothing," he grunted through clenched teeth. He was clutching his leg to his chest.

"Is something wrong with your leg?" Sherlock asked. He couldn't help but feel worried. John _had _hurt his leg while chasing him. "Let me see," he said. He gently tried to pull John's hand away from his leg.

"Go away!" John yelled. His eyes shot open. He looked at Sherlock with tears threatening to overflow. "You don't have friends! Remember? I'm no different! Go away, Freak!"

Umbreon growled fiercely behind Sherlock. Flash growled back at him and looked worriedly at John. "It's okay, Umbreon," Sherlock said softly. Umbreon grew quiet. "He's just saying those things because he's hurt. I don't think he means it, but either way it doesn't matter. We need to help him.

John rolled over, still holding tightly to his leg. Sherlock looked watched John's back as it moved with jagged breaths. He was trying to figure out what to do. "John?"

"What?" John spat.

"Do you know what happened to your leg? Was it something that happened before, or did it just happen when you were running after me?"

"I… I hurt it," he said slowly. "In football… a boy kicked… my shin really hard… he meant to kick the ball… The doctor said to take it easy for a while… I," a sob came out of John unexpectedly. John tried to stifle it. "I heard it… I heard a 'pop' when I was running."

"When did you hurt your shin originally?" Sherlock asked calmly. He had read a lot of medical and science books, so he felt confident that he knew what he was doing.

"Four…. Four days ago," John breathed. He choked back another sob, and Flash whimpered beside him.

Sherlock sighed. Only four days ago? Since the doctor told him to 'take it easy,' the bone was probably frail from the kick. It wasn't bad enough for a cast, but still damaged. All the stress from John running most likely caused the bone to break.

"John, I need to see your leg," Sherlock said firmly. John didn't budge. "John," he growled. He was losing his patience with this boy. "I know what I'm doing."

"Fine," John sobbed. He rolled on his back and sat up. Gently, he lowered his leg from his chest to the grass. His sobs grew louder as he did it. Flash paced in a circle around John, not knowing what to do. He sat down again and whimpered. Umbreon comforted him.

"I'm going to roll your pants leg up, okay?" Sherlock asked cautiously. John nodded. Sherlock slowly rolled the jean fabric up, but halfway up the shin, John let out a soft screech of pain. Flash jumped to his feet and bared his teeth at Sherlock. "I'm helping him," Sherlock told Flash firmly. Flash stood, unsure, for a moment, but then went to John's side silently. John held onto his main's fur tightly. He was biting down on his lip to keep from crying out again.

Sherlock hesitantly rolled the fabric up to John's knee. John's shin was extremely swollen and turning purple. "John, I'm pretty sure it's broken. Are either of your parents here?"

John shook his head roughly. "No, but… my sister is," he grunted.

"Okay, let's go to her. She can get you to the hospital," Sherlock said, trying to sound reassuring. John nodded. Sherlock stood up and lifted John's arm over his shoulder. John hobbled onto one foot, taking tiny hops to steady himself. Flash rushed to his side, trying to help.

"Umbreon," Umbreon barked. Flash looked at him.

"Lithe?" Umbreon shook his head. Flash lowered his head with a sad expression. Umbreon had told him it would be better for him to stay back. He couldn't help John at the moment.

"Do you know where your sister is?" Sherlock asked, heaving. He was supporting most of John's weight as they slowly walked forward. Umbreon and Growlithe followed behind.

"By the picnic area," John said. His teeth were clenched again. Sherlock nodded. That wasn't too far. They were close to the picnic tables when Sherlock heard a girl yell. He looked up to see a brunette running towards him and John. Other than her hair, the girl looked a lot like John.

"John!" she gasped, looking at his leg. She looked at Sherlock with distrust.

"He fell," Sherlock said emotionless. "His leg is most likely broken. You're going to need to get him to the hospital. Can you drive?"

The girl was surprised by how professionally Sherlock sounded. "Y-yeah. Thank you?" Sherlock nodded. "John, how much pain are you in? Does it hurt really bad? Do you need me to carry you to the car? Did you-"

"Harriet," John interrupted. It was obvious he was in pain. "Can… can we go?"

"Of course!" Harriet replied. Sherlock helped her put John's arm around her shoulder. They started to walk away, but John turned to Sherlock.

"Thank you, Sherlock." His face scrunched in pain, but he continued to speak. "You know… m-my offer's still out there. I still want to be your friend. I-I didn't mean to call… to call you a freak."

Sherlock nodded. He smiled a little, hoping John would take that as a 'yes' to his offer. He didn't know how to say it aloud. John must've understood, because he grinned back.

"I'll see you later," he said. "Come on, Flash," he called. Harriet led him out of the park.

"Bre?" Umbreon asked, looking up at Sherlock.

"I… I think we just made a new friend?" Sherlock was reeling from what had just happened. For some reason, John hadn't been mean to him. He had asked to be Sherlock's friend. Sherlock smiled. "Yeah, we definitely made a friend," he grinned. Part of him was still unsure, but the rest of him was elated for being accepted.

"Umbreon!" Umbreon barked happily. He and Sherlock grinned at each other.


	5. School Yard Confrontation

Chapter Five

Sherlock's teacher was droning on about simple division. He had already taught himself solving equations and even the quadratic formula. He could divide stuff within seconds in his head, so his maths class bored him immensely. He stared out the classroom's window. The trees outside the window swayed with the autumn wind. He caught a glimpse of a Wigglytuff before it disappeared behind a bush.

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock's head perked up and he looked at his teacher. His classmates were giggling and staring at him.

"Pay attention!"

"Sorry Mr. Mitchell," Sherlock mumbled. He leaned back in his chair annoyed. He returned to watching out the window, but made an effort to look like he was paying attention. When the end of the day releasing bell rang, Sherlock collected his things and stuffed them into his backpack.

He hurried out of school, but halfway down the school walkway, he heard a call from behind him. "Sherlock!" he turned to see John walking towards him. Well, his leg was in a blue cast so he was relying heavily on two crutches.

"John?" Sherlock asked with confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"I go to school here," John laughed as he reached Sherlock's side. "I've always gone here."

"Really?" He noticed that John was wearing the school uniform's blue jumper.

"Guess you never noticed me, huh?" John smiled. Sherlock shrugged awkwardly. The classmates who passed John and Sherlock looked at them with confusion and disgust. It wasn't often that someone greeted Sherlock with friendliness.

"Well, um, I've got to get home…" Sherlock said after a moment of silence, shuffling his feet.

"Yeah! Of course. I'll see you later," John nodded with a smile.

"Hey, John, why are you talking to that _freak?_" Sherlock and John turned to see Moriarty and Sebastian. Sherlock sighed.

"What? There's no need for that," John said with a sour expression. "Sherlock's really nice."

Moriarty snorted. "_Nice?"_

"Yes," John said. He straightened his back, taking as much of a defensive stance as he could with the crutches.

"Are you defending that weirdo?" Sebastian grinned.

John's face flushed red. "You two are just bullies. You only make fun of Sherlock because of your own flaws."

"John," Sherlock said quietly. "It's alright. Just ignore them."

"Aw is Johnny boy trying to protect you?" Moriarty mocked. He walked forward until he was almost nose -to-nose with Sherlock. He had a nasty smirk on his face. "Have you made a _friend? _Maybe John's just as much as a freak as you," he said just above a whisper.

"Just leave us alone," Sherlock said firmly. Moriarty laughed and shoved him by the shoulders, sending Sherlock stumbling to the ground.

"Sherlock! Are you alright?" John asked, helping him to his feet.

"Boys, is there a problem here?" a teacher approached, her eyes squinted with suspicion.

"No, of course not," Moriarty said in an innocent voice. "Sherlock just tripped. He's very clumsy."

"Yeah. We tried to tell him to be more careful," Sebastian added.

The teacher looked at Sherlock, who nodded with a frown. "Okay. You should all head home. It'll get dark soon," she walked away. When she was out of sight, Moriarty and Sebastian both stepped closer to John and Sherlock.

Moriarty grinned as his fists tightened. Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for Moriarty to hit him. His eyes shot opened when he heard a loud bark from behind him. He turned to see Umbreon jogging to him, growling at Sebastian and Moriarty.

"Let's go!" Moriarty said. He and Sebastian hurried in the opposite direction of Sherlock.

"Haha, thanks Umbreon," Sherlock laughed, ruffling Umbreon's fur.

"Wow, that was a close one," John said. He looked unhappy.

"Yeah. I knew Umbreon would come, though," Sherlock nodded.

"Huh? How'd you know?" John cocked his head.

Sherlock laughed darkly, "He meets me every day after school. You know, this isn't exactly the first time Moriarty and Sebastian have done this."

"Sherlock," John's voice was quiet. "How can you handle it?"

"What?" he asked, feigning confusion.

"Moriarty. Sebastian. Practically everyone. They're all so mean to you. You come to school with bruises just about every week. How can you always be so…. cool about it?" John asked with frustration.

"It's not like I have a choice. I have to deal with it. Besides, all of them are idiots. One day, they're all going to be in prison or making fast food. I'll be rich and superior."

"That's it? That's all you do? I just don't understand it…"

"Look," Sherlock said, crossing his arms. "It doesn't matter. I'm going home. Goodbye, John." He and Umbreon walked away from John.

"Hey!" John called. Sherlock turned halfway to look back at the boy. "I wasn't trying to offend you. I'm still your friend." Sherlock didn't say anything. "Bye!"

Sherlock nodded tightly and continued walking with Umbreon at his side. Though he was still weary of John wanting to be his friend, he felt relieved that John didn't like the bullying. He had even tried to stick up for Sherlock. Maybe John wouldn't be like everyone else.


	6. Playing at John's House

Chapter Six

Sherlock, Boney, and Umbreon slowly descended the stairs and entered the kitchen. Sherlock gave the Pokémon their food, and then retrieved cereal for himself. He sat alone at the table and began eating right as his mother entered the room.

"Ah, hello Mother," Sherlock said, sitting up straight, "Good morning."

"Hello darling," his mother answered, pouring herself a cup of coffee. Her skitty followed closely behind. "Oh, there was a call for you this morning. I assumed you were asleep, so I wrote down the number for you to call back."

"Hm? Who was it?" Sherlock asked, confused. No one ever called for him.

"Some boy," she said. She paused with a thoughtful expression, "I think he said his name was Jeremy? Jake? Maybe it was Jarred."

"Was it John?" Sherlock asked tensely.

"Yes! That sounds right!" she nodded. She picked up her coffee and pulled her purse over her shoulder. "I'm off to work. I'll see you at dinner," she kissed Sherlock on the head and scurried out the door.

"Sure," Sherlock muttered to himself when she was gone. His mother rarely ever made it home for dinner. He pushed the thought of her absence out of his mind and thought about John. How had he gotten Sherlock's number? _Why _was he even calling him?

He abandoned his cereal on the table (which Boney helped himself to) and picked up the note on the kitchen counter. A phone number was scribbled sloppily across the yellow paper. He dialed the number and nervously held the phone to his ear. He listened to it ring, half hoping John wouldn't answer. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Four ri-

"Hello?" a cheery voice answered. It was a woman.

"Um, hi, uh, is this John Watson's residence?" he stumbled on his words.

"Yes! Do you want to talk to Johnny? Could I have your name?" she asked happily.

"Yes, please, I'd like to speak with him. It's, um, Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock said.

"Oh what a unique name! Wait just a second while I get Johnny," the woman said. John heard a muffled yell and then thumping, as if someone was running down stairs. The phone ruffled as it was picked up.

"Hi, Sherlock!" John's voice said over the phone. Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed.

"Uh, hello," Sherlock said. "How'd you get this number?"

"What? You're the one calling me!" John laughed.

"Huh? No, you called me earlier… Right?" Sherlock was flustered.

"Yeah, I did. I got your number out of the phonebook," John said. Sherlock was surprised. He didn't expect such a simple answer.

Sherlock was silent for a second. "Urm, what did you want?"

"Oh, I called to ask if you wanted to come over to my house. Do you want to?" John asked.

"… Why?" Sherlock asked. This conversation was confusing him greatly.

"To play! Geez, why are you so against having a friend?"

Sherlock was taken aback by his friend's annoyance. "Well… I guess I can," Sherlock said.

"Okay! Good!" John said. Sherlock could almost hear the smile on John's face. "I'm going to give you my address, do you have a pen?"

"Uh-huh," Sherlock gripped his pen. John gave him an address, which Sherlock wrote neatly underneath John's phone number. "So… I guess I'll be over soon? Can I bring my Pokémon?"

"Yes! See you soon, bye!" John answered.

"Yeah, bye," Sherlock hung up the phone and took a moment to process what happened. He left the kitchen, followed by Umbreon, and made his way to the library. He pushed open the mahogany door to see Mycroft reading a newspaper at his desk. His feet were propped on the desktop.

"Yes?" Mycroft asked from behind his newspaper. "What can I do for you Sherlock?"

"I was wondering if you could take me somewhere." Sherlock asked quietly. Mycroft folded the newspaper and left his chair, leaning against the dark wood of his desk. This was a rare request from Sherlock.

"Where to?" he asked Sherlock curiously. His Persian sat at his feet and Mycroft stroked his fur.

Sherlock shuffled his feet, avoiding Mycroft's eyes. "Someone's house…" he mumbled.

Mycroft's eyebrows lifted. "What? Is this a friend?" he asked with a smile. His younger brother shrugged. "Well, yes, I will take you," Mycroft said.

* * *

Mycroft put the car in park in front of John's house. Sherlock looked it up and down. It was a small two story home, painted a sickly bright yellow. A white fence surrounded the yard, which was full of flowers, bushes, and gnomes. There were at least seven gnomes in short grass, and five Pokémon horsing around.

Sherlock slid out of the black car, opened the back door for Umbreon and Boney, and met Mycroft at the fence's gate. The two brothers exchanged glances and Mycroft said in a bit of a mocking tone, "Quite a home, don't you think, Brother?"

"Don't be mean," Sherlock snapped. He opened the gate and walked up the narrow stone path with Mycroft, Umbreon, and Boney behind him. He knocked lightly on the door and heard movement inside the house. Mycroft leaned his weight on his umbrella as they waited.

The worn-down white door opened to reveal a thin woman in a floral dress. He round face was surrounded by blonde hair, which matched John's almost exactly. "Hello, you must be Sherlock, right?" she asked.

"Yes," Sherlock nodded.

"Johnny! Your friend is here!" the woman called into the house. She turned back to Sherlock and Mycroft. "And you are?" she asked Mycroft.

"Ah, forgive me," Mycroft said bowing slightly. He had a charming smile on. "I am Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's brother."

"Nice to meet you!" she said enthusiastically shaking Mycroft's hand. Sherlock heard footsteps in the house, and a moment later John appeared behind his mother. He no longer had his cast on, but had a brace wrapped around his leg.

"Hey, Sherlock. Come in!" he pushed his way around his mother and grabbed Sherlock's hand. He dragged him into the house and up a small flight of stairs. Sherlock was certain he saw at least half a dozen Pokémon on the way up.

John led Sherlock to his room, which had a door marked "Johnny." The floor in the room was covered with toys and Pokémon. "John, why are there so many Pokémon in your house?" Sherlock asked curiously.

"We rescued them. I'm going to be a doctor when I grow up, so I can help people and Pokémon. My mum teaches me how to take care of them," John explained.

"That's nice," Sherlock said, watching a Vulpix pounce on a ball of yarn. "How many Pokémon do you have?"

"Right now I'd guess about… eh, maybe twenty or thirty? We keep them until we can find the Pokémon good homes," John said, sitting on his bed. A Growlithe, probably the one at the park, jumped on the bed and rested his head on John's lap. "This is Flash," John introduced. Sherlock nodded.

Sherlock walked to John's desk, avoiding Pokémon, and sat down in the roll-y chair. Umbreon and Boney sauntered into the room. "That's Boney and Umbreon," Sherlock gestured to the two Pokémon.

"Cool," John smiled. "What do you want to do?"

"I don't know," Sherlock shrugged, "You're the one who invited me over."

"That's true," John said, ignoring his friend's rude tone. "How about we play war?"

"War?" he asked. Sherlock wasn't familiar with most games that kids his age played.

"You know, _war, _with soldiers and guns and missions. Do you want to play?"

Sherlock thought it over for a minute. He couldn't see how it could hurt. "Why not?"

* * *

"So… what do I do?" Sherlock asked, his eyebrows furrowed as he started at the water gun in his hand.

"We're in war. We're on separate teams, so I'm going to try to shoot you with my water gun, and you're going to try to shoot me," John explained.

"Umbreon!" Umbreon barked, jumping in the air at Sherlock's side. He held a squeezable water gun between his teeth.

"And what does Umbreon do?" Sherlock asked.

"Same thing. He tries to shoot me or Pedro," John pointed to the Psyduck at his feet. Sherlock and Umbreon nodded. "You ready?"

"Yeah, I guess," Sherlock replied. "Do we like… establish bases, or something?"

"Oh, yeah! I forgot. You choose a place for your base and I choose one for mine. When you are in your base, you are safe, but you can only stay in for fifteen seconds. My base is under the oak tree," John said.

"Mine will be the bench by your house. Okay. Now I'm ready."

"Let's go!" John yelled with fire in his eyes. Sherlock and Umbreon sprinted behind a nearby rose bush, and John jogged underneath the play set's slide. Psyduck sat in the middle of the yard.

"Alright," Sherlock said under his breath to Umbreon. "I'll go right, you go left. Try to take out Psyduck before going after John, alright?"

"Breon!" Umbreon nodded. He and his master shared the same fierce and concentrated expression.

"On my signal," Sherlock said. He mouthed 'One,' 'two,' "Three!" he yelled. He and Umbreon jumped out from behind the bush and dashed across the yard. Sherlock saw John run out from the side, coming at Sherlock while making a large half-circle.

"Psyduck!" Sherlock heard from behind him.

"Bre!" Umbreon shouted with glee, but Sherlock kept his eyes on John.

John let out a loud 'battle cry' and lunged at Sherlock, firing his water gun. Sherlock dodged out of the way and sprayed at John. The stream of water grazed John's shoulder.

"NO! I've been shot!" John yelled with mock agony. He gripped his shoulder in one hand. "But I won't go down so easily, Sergeant Sherlock!"

John shot at Sherlock, hitting him right in the chest with the water. Sherlock fell to his knees, clutching his chest. "Man… down!" Sherlock gasped. He flopped down to the ground, face down in the grass. He heard a roar from behind and looked to see Umbreon jumping at John and flashing his teeth.

"Ahh!" John cowered away from the Pokémon. Flash sensed the danger and placed himself in front of John protectively. His muzzle pulled back to show his pointed teeth.

"Umbreon!" Sherlock yelled, "It's okay. It's just a game." Umbreon turned to look at him. After accepting that it was safe, he lowered his defensive stance.

"T-that was close," John said breathlessly. He laughed slightly, but his eyes looked frightened. "No wonder Moriarty and Sebastian are afraid of him."

Sherlock nodded, watching Umbreon. The Pokémon sat at Sherlock's side. "Umbreon," Sherlock said firmly. "Don't hurt John, okay? It was a game."

"Umbre," Umbreon nodded, looking ashamed. Sherlock stroked his fur as a sign of forgiveness.

"I guess he's just a little protective," Sherlock said anxiously. He wondered if John would still want to be his friend after this.

"That's okay," John smiled, getting to his feet. "It's a good thing, really. And Flash is the same way," his Growlithe barked joyfully at John's feet.

"Johnny!" Sherlock and John turned to see Mrs. Watson standing in the house doorway. "Sherlock's brother is here to pick him up. Say goodbye to your friend!"

"Here," Sherlock took off his vest and handed it to John. "I guess I'll see you at school on Monday?"

"Yeah," John said. He walked with Sherlock, Boney, and Umbreon around the house to the driveway. "Have a good weekend."

Sherlock slipped in the car behind Mycroft. John waved from the cluttered porch. Sherlock gave a small wave back.


	7. The Haunted House

Chapter Seven

Sherlock and John walked away from school, Flash and Umbreon close behind them. They often walked part of the way home together after school. The two boys and their Pokémon turned down a small street, a short cut, that was lined only by trees and an old house.

"You see that house?" John asked, pointing at the worn down building. Sherlock grunted an affirmation. "Harriet, my sister, says it's haunted. That's why no one has lived there for a long time."

"Ghosts aren't real," Sherlock laughed. He paused in front of the house's rusted black fence. It was obvious that the house had been vacant for many years. The knee-high grass was full of clusters of weeds and dead flowers, the windows were clouded with dirt, and the roof was missing a good amount of shingles.

"Yes they are," John replied, leaning against the fence's cold metal next to his friend. Umbreon and Flash watched them curiously.

"No. Try to find one scientific study that says they're real," Sherlock said, "because there are none."

"There are no science studies that say they _aren't _real, right?"

"_Technically_, no. But I'm fairly certain that ghosts don't exist," Sherlock answered. John nodded, happy with Sherlock's reply. "Why don't we go inside?"

"What?" John asked.

"Let's go inside the house. I'll show you that there aren't any 'paranormal entities' in there," Sherlock half-suggested/ half-challenged. Umbreon's muzzle turned up in what looked to be a grin.

"Okay," John nodded. He didn't feel like he could turn down the challenge without sounding scared. Flash whined uncomfortably at his master's feet. "It'll be okay, Flash," John assured.

"Yeah. There won't be any ghosts in there," Sherlock smiled smugly. He pushed open the rusty gate, which groaned loudly in protest. He bowed with his arm across his chest, almost like a butler would, giving John first entrance.

"Don't do that," John grumbled as he passed his bowing friend. Flash walked in behind him, crouched nervously. Umbreon barked happily at Sherlock. He and Umbreon both got similar thrills from adventures and investigations.

Sherlock shut the gate behind them and met up with John at the large mahogany door. "Ready?" he asked with a glint in his eyes. John nodded as bravely as he could and Sherlock pushed on the door handle. The door rattled, but didn't open.

"What's wrong? Is it locked?" John questioned. He and Flash exchanged hopeful glances.

"No, just stuck." Sherlock rammed his shoulder against the door, making it shutter. He hit it another two times, and on the third try, the door swung open and sent a cloud of dust in Sherlock's face. Sherlock coughed and swatted away the dust, choking out, "There we go."

"You sure this is okay?" John asked nervously. He and Flash followed Sherlock and Umbreon across the threshold and into the ancient house.

"It's fine. No one will care," Sherlock said. "It's dark in here," he observed. The only light source in the room came from a chandelier, but the purple flames were very dim. His hand fumbled around in his messenger bag and pulled out a pocket-sized flashlight. He turned it on and shone it around the room. The light illuminated dusty furniture (couches, lamps, arm chairs) and yellowing wallpaper.

"It looks like a parlor or a sitting room," John said. He picked at a piece of peeling wallpaper. The ugly paper tore away from the wall easily, revealing a layer of green and black mold. "Gross," he whispered as he threw down paper in his hand.

"Yeah," Sherlock agreed. He was looking at the antique furniture. Why would someone move out and leave their belongings?

A loud 'bang' filled the room and the light from outside disappeared. The two boys and their Pokémon turned to face the front door with wide eyes and panic. It had been shut. "Pr- probably just the wind," Sherlock stuttered.

"_From inside the house?!" _John asked with terror. Sherlock gave a half smile and shrugged. He swallowed down the fear growing in his stomach.

"Don't worry about it," Sherlock said calmly. He and Umbreon, who now walked with a defensive posture, moved into the next room.

"He's an idiot," John muttered to Flash. The Growlithe nodded in agreement. The two trailed Sherlock and Umbreon to the new room cautiously.

"A kitchen," Sherlock said when his friend appeared next to him. He shone the flashlight over a moldy stove. "There's rotten food in the fridge, too."

John nodded. He could smell a putrid scent wafting from the refrigerator's direction. "So what exactly are we doing?" he asked.

"I'm proving ghosts aren't real," Sherlock said. He sent his friend a confused glance, since they had discussed this already.

"But _how _are you 'proving it?'"

"Well…" Sherlock pursed his lips in thought. "Hmm. Good question."

"Why don't we just-" John's voice was cut off by loud screeching sounds. The noises vaguely compared to nails scratching a chalkboard.

"Growlithe!" Flash yelped, pushing his body into John's legs, trying to hide himself. Umbreon, however, remained alert and defensive. His eyes peered all around the room, searching for something to attack.

"W-w-what was that?!" John cried.

"I… don't know," Sherlock said weakly.

"What?" he asked. John couldn't hear what his friend said over the sound of his heart racing in his ears.

"I don't know!" Sherlock repeated loudly. Fear leaked through his usually calm voice.

The screeching sound stopped, filling the house with an eerie silence. Sherlock, John, Flash, and Umbreon stood completely still, waiting for something to happen. John and Sherlock looked at each other. "I-I think we should leave," John stumbled over his words.

"It was probably just… a bird. You know, scratching at a window," Sherlock nodded to himself.

"No, Sherlock. I'm done with this," John said firmly. He was terrified. His Growlithe whimpered in agreement.

"Fine, John. But it's not a ghost."

"Fine! Ghosts aren't real!" John yelled, although he _did _believe ghosts were real (more now than ever before), but agreeing with Sherlock would get them out of that house faster. "Now let's go!"

"Alright, alright," Sherlock muttered. He and Umbreon led the way back to the parlor. Sherlock felt a mixture of sadness and relief about leaving. He wanted to explore the house more, but part of him was afraid ghosts _could _be real.

Sherlock put his hand on the front door's handle and pulled. The door stayed put. He pulled harder this time, making the wood jiggle in its frame. "Just open the door, Sherlock," John said with agitation. His arms were crossed over his chest and his foot tapped on the floor with impatience.

"It won't move," Sherlock grunted as he pulled back with all his weight. He looked at John with fear-filled eyes.

"Don't play around! This isn't fun anymore," John shoved Sherlock away from the door, trying to open it himself. He pulled and pushed and rattled it, but the door wouldn't budge.

"J…J-John!" Sherlock gasped. He stood with his back pressed against the wall, batting his arm furiously against John's shoulder.

"What?!" John turned to his friend with anger. The anger evaporated as soon as he saw what Sherlock was pointing at with a gaping mouth. The black and purple chandelier was floating closer and closer to the parlor's floor. A loud howl echoed in the house.

"Open the door! Open the door!" John screamed. He and Sherlock both fumbled with the door handle, never taking their eyes off of the floating chandelier. Umbreon was crouched in front of his master, growling and barking protectively.

"_Chandelure!" _ A deep voice groaned. Flash shivered and whined at John's feet. John also let out a frightened squeak at the sound.

"J-John," Sherlock called over all the noise. "John it's a Pokémon!"

"W…What?" John asked, letting go of the door.

"It's a Chandelure, John. The ghost type Pokémon," Sherlock laughed nervously. He looked over what he had thought was a chandelier and discovered it had a face. "It's a Pokémon!"

"Chandelure…" John said faintly. He tried to stifle his fear long enough to look at the 'chandelier'. He immediately recognized the Pokémon. "N-not a ghost."

"No, like I said," Sherlock said. He had a smug smile on his face. The Chandelure stopped its groans and the house became completely quiet, other than the sound of Sherlock and John's heavy breaths. "Ghosts aren't real."

"But… we still may not be safe," John said. He watched the Chandelure with alarm. It was slowly advancing on the two boys and Pokémon.

"Umbre!" Umbreon growled a warning. The ghost type Pokémon paused momentarily, but then continued to move towards them, its mouth turning red and orange with flames.

"Gastly!" a voice echoed. Next thing they knew, a Gastly was floating before Sherlock and John. It floated between the boys and the Chandelure. It and the Chandelure seemed to be conversing. Sherlock and John watched with confusion, but Flash and Umbreon seemed to know what was going on.

The Gastly gave one last bellow, and the Chandelure started to return to its original place on the ceiling. "What's going on?" John breathed.

"I think… the Gastly sent it away?" Sherlock guessed.

"Breon," Umbreon nodded.

"Okay? That's good, now let's leave," John said. He pulled at the door again, this time it opened easily.

"Wait, John," Sherlock said. He slowly approached the Gastly, who was shirking away from sunlight that was let in by the open door. John sighed with annoyance and followed his friend. "Shouldn't we take him with us?" The Gastly growled at Sherlock.

"Her," John said. "I think she's a _her."_

"Oh," Sherlock said. The Gastly looked at John with a smile. "We can't just leave her here alone. It shouldn't be here with that Chandelure, right?"

"I guess not," John agreed. She had, after all, stopped the Chandelure from hurting them. "Do you want to come with us, Gastly?" he asked gently.

The Gastly seemed to think it over, and then nodded. "I've got a pokéball with me," Sherlock said. He pulled out the red and white ball from his backpack. "I don't think she likes the light, so keeping her in a pokéball would be best." John nodded and Sherlock tossed the ball at the Gastly.

The Gastly was pulled quickly into the red energy emitted from the ball. The pokéball wiggled once and then clicked as it became still. Sherlock picked it up with a grin. "You don't care if I keep her, do you?" he asked John.

"Nah, that's fine. My mum probably wouldn't let me keep her anyway. Now can we _please _leave?" John asked. His eyes continuously flickered to where the Chandelure was floating near the parlor ceiling.

"Yeah," Sherlock nodded. He, John, Umbreon, and Flash left the worn down house quickly, shutting the door tightly behind them. "So do you agree that there are no such things as ghosts?" he asked John as they walked.

"Nope, I still think they're real," John said. He felt calmer now that they were no longer in that abandoned building. "If there are ghost-type Pokémon, don't you think there have to be ghosts?"

"What? No," Sherlock answered as if it had been a really stupid question.

"Fine, whatever," John shrugged. There was probably no way he would convince Sherlock that ghosts existed without hardcore science, which he didn't have. "But I still believe."


	8. Playing Pirates

Chapter Eight

Sherlock lay upside down on his bed. His dark curly hair hanged down towards the wooden floor. "I'm booored," he groaned.

"Gastly," Metus, Sherlock's newest Pokémon, replied. She was playing with Sherlock's paddleball in the darkest corner of his room. Metus preferred the dark, never straying too far into the light.

"Huh?" Sherlock asked. He sat up and paused as all his blood rushed down from his head. Metus motioned to the paddleball in her hands. "Oh, no I don't want to play with that. It's boring."

"Gastly," Metus shrugged.

Sherlock left his large bed and pulled an eye patch out of his desk. He strapped it over one eye and looked at Metus, Umbreon, and Boney with excitement. "Who wants to play Pirates?" he asked.

"Breon," Umbreon muttered a refusal. He sprawled out on Sherlock's bed, trying to fall asleep.

"What about you, Boney?" Sherlock looked at the Cubone expectantly.

"Cubone cu," Boney grunted. He curled up into a tight ball on Sherlock's desk chair, cuddling his bone close to his chest.

"Fine," Sherlock pouted. Boney and Umbreon both sat unmoving as they tried to sleep, and Metus looked apologetically at Sherlock. She didn't want to go outside since it was so bright. "I'll go ask Mycroft, then."

Sherlock dressed in his pirate clothes, which consisted of frayed shorts, suspenders, a brown vest, and a bandana hat. He made his way to the library, where Mycroft spent most of his days. "Mycroft, will you play Pirates with me?" Sherlock asked grumpily.

"No I will not," Mycroft answered simply. He didn't look away from his book. His Persian, who was lying in front of the fireplace, barely spared Sherlock a glance when he spoke. "I have to study."

"Alright," Sherlock said begrudgingly. His brother _did _have his first college exams coming up soon.

* * *

Sherlock moped down a nature path in the backyard. The Holmes' vast yard allowed for several nature paths, but this one was Sherlock's favorite. It led to a small pond with a lot of rocks and algae. It was the perfect setting for Pirates.

"This is stupid," Sherlock muttered to himself as he walked. John was out of town and no one else would play with him. Not even his Pokémon cared enough to play. He stopped when he reached the pond and sat on a large rock. Algae covered half on the stony surface.

He noticed wood sticking out of the ground next to the rock. He pulled it out to reveal a half dirty wooden sword. He must have left it there the last time he played Pirates. He stood and balanced on his rock, batting the sword at the air. "Argh!" he grunted as he hit an invisible enemy. "You can't beat me!" he said quietly. He felt awkward playing by himself.

Sherlock had often played games by himself before, but now it was difficult for him. Since he had taken in so many Pokémon and became friends with John, he just about always had someone by his side. If one couldn't play with him, another would step up.

"Bu?" a small voice called. Sherlock lowered his sword and looked around curiously. All he saw were trees, rocks, flowers, and the pond. Nothing capable of speaking.

"Hello?" he asked the trees. "Anyone there?"

"Buizel?" the high-pitched voice came again. Sherlock peered closely at the direction it came from. He saw a flash of orange behind a tree. Slowly, he walked to the tree and looked behind it.

"Hello," Sherlock said stiffly. Standing before him was an orange, two-tailed Pokémon. Its neck looked to be wrapped in a yellow floaty, but it had fur. Blue fins stood out from the Pokémon's arms.

"Buizel," the Pokémon said, cocking his head.

"You're a Buizel?" Sherlock asked, kneeling before the small creature. "I'm Sherlock," he said.

"Zel," the Pokémon smiled. He pulled at Sherlock's wooden sword, which was larger than him.

"Do you want my sword?" Sherlock let go of the wood and the Buizel dropped it to the ground, underestimating the weight of it. He struggled for a moment while Sherlock watched him and picked up the sword. He looked at Sherlock and grinned.

"Buizel!" he shouted.

"Do you want to play pirates?" Sherlock asked happily. The Buizel nodded and followed him to the large rock. The Buizel ran up the algae-ridden rock and held the wood sword in the air. He was getting adjusted to the weight and now could hold it with a small level of difficulty.

"Bu!" Buizel growled at the air. Sherlock thought he may have been watching him before, observing how Sherlock played pirates.

Sherlock smiled and did a similar pose next to the Pokémon. He punched at the air with a fist and made various 'pirate sounds' at the sky.

"Oh, no!" Sherlock gasped. He looked at the worried Buizel. "The enemy ship is gaining on us! We have to fight," he said. Buizel processed Sherlock's words for a moment and then nodded in understanding.

"Hii-yah!" Sherlock yelled, kicking at the empty air.

"Zeeel!" the Buizel shouted, weakly swinging the wooden sword in his paws. He and Sherlock exchanged grins. The two fought the enemy pirates for a while. Eventually, the Buizel gave up the wooden sword and let Sherlock use it. It was very heavy for his little arms.

"That was fun," Sherlock said after he and the Buizel sat down to take a rest.

"Buizel," the Pokémon nodded in agreement.

"Do you live out here?" he asked, looking at the trees around him.

"Zel," the Buizel nodded.

"Do you want to come live with me instead?" Sherlock suggested. "We could play Pirates a lot."

"Bu," he nodded with a smile, his twin tails moving happily.

"I'm just going to call you Buizel, okay? I like the sound of it," Sherlock said. Buizel accepted that happily.

* * *

Sherlock and Buizel crept through the house, trying not to let Mycroft hear them. They passed silently outside the library door, heading for Sherlock's room.

"Sherlock," Mycroft's voice came. It sounded firm and scolding. "Come in here," he said.

"Dang it," Sherlock muttered. He entered the library with his head hanging low and the Buizel trailing behind.

"Sherlock, how many times have I told you not to keep bringing Pokémon home?" he asked with exasperation.

"But he was living out in the woods. What's bad about giving him a home?" Sherlock gestured to Buizel who was watching him curiously.

"You can't just bring home every Pokémon you encounter," Mycroft sighed. His Persian rubbed against his leg and Mycroft stroked his fur. "And did you even catch this one? Why isn't he in a pokéball?"

"I don't have to catch Pokémon," Sherlock said with a pouted lip. "They're my friends. They come home with me by their own will. I don't see what's wrong with that."

Mycroft looked the Buizel up and down in thought. He looked at Sherlock again. "You can't keep it," he said firmly.

"Come on, Buizel. Let's go to my room," Sherlock said, ignoring his brother. "Don't worry about that fatty. He can't make you leave."

"_Sherlock!_" Mycroft yelled as his brother and Buizel left the room.

"Don't worry about him, Buizel. He'll get over it," Sherlock assured the Pokémon.


End file.
